Текст книги "The Absence of Olivia"
Автор книги: Anie Michaels
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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-One
Present Day
I’d spent the entire drive back to my townhouse wondering who in their right mind invited perfect strangers to stay in their house. Granted, Nate wasn’t actually a stranger. I’d been on a date with him once upon a time. And he had travelled all the way to see me and my gallery show. And, if I were being completely honest with myself, after our date two years ago, had I stayed in town, I probably would have slept with him. After that one date, I wasn’t sure how much longer I would have waited.
But things happened and my life changed course and in that moment, I was standing on my porch trying to use trembling fingers to unlock my door while I could feel the heat from Nate’s body standing deliciously close to me.
“Let me,” I heard his deep timbre voice say just before his hand clasped over mine, taking the key from me, and effortlessly unlocking my door. He pushed it open and I turned back to him with a smile.
“Thank you. I’m still a little keyed up from the show.” I led him inside, closing the door behind him.
“This is a great place,” he said, turning in a slow circle, taking in my home.
“It’s not as decorated as I would like it to be, but I’ve been really busy pretty much since I moved here.”
“I see you found time to hang some photos though,” he said, still smiling. He’d been smiling practically the entire night and the sight of his smile, easy and sexy all at once, and his body encased in his gorgeous suit, with his eyes and his hair, in my house…well…it was nearly overwhelming.
I laughed a little, trying not to be completely obvious that his mere presence had me nervous and excited. “Hanging photos was the first thing I did. I had pictures up before I had my bed put together.” I flipped on the light switch at the entrance of the kitchen and walked to the refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got a bottle of wine, but that’s about it.”
“Water would be great.” He followed me into the kitchen, his eyes still roaming around my space as if he was looking for clues or information about me based on my living space. He’d be sorely disappointed; my house didn’t say much about me besides the fact that I wasn’t there a lot.
I opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water, and handed it to him. He took it, and then proceeded to unscrew the lid and bring the bottle to his mouth, taking long, thick swallows. It was too much for me to watch, so I let my eyes wander down his front, taking in the way his chest just barely fit into his suit. His arms snuggly filled the sleeves of his jacket as well.
I had to say something to distract myself from everything about him that was enticingly sexy.
“I need to go in to the gallery tomorrow. There will be a lot of people trying to get in contact with me, so it’s best I’m there for the day. I’m sorry. I don’t want to abandon you.”
“Hey, don’t worry about me. I’m the one who totally ambushed you.”
I turned around quickly, reached into my junk drawer, and pulled out my spare key.
“Why don’t you take this,” I said, holding out the key for him. “You can leave the house and go do whatever you want and still be able to get back in.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, tentatively taking it from me.
“Definitely,” I said with an assertive nod. “Here, let me show you to the spare bedroom.” I practically jumped away from the counter, making sure I passed by him without letting our bodies brush against each other. Looking at him was torture enough. To accidentally press myself against him and then have to pull myself away again was more than I could handle.
I started up the stairs and could feel the heat of his gaze on my backside. I knew, without a doubt, my red silken dress made my ass look outstanding. I’d purchased it mainly for that exact reason. My body was alight with the idea of him taking in the sight of it. I simply couldn’t handle the tension, couldn’t deal with him and me, alone, in my house, with me in my ‘come and fuck me’ dress and him in a ‘you know you want to come and fuck me’ suit. It was just too much.
“Here you are,” I said, my voice too breathy, chest rising and falling too quickly. My arm, out slightly, was motioning toward the open door, but he didn’t go in. No, he stopped when his body was right in front of mine. My eyes, naturally meeting his chest, followed his tie up to his face, and when our eyes met, he didn’t look away.
“Looks fantastic.”
He was so close I could smell him. When his fingertips wrapped around my hip, my mouth fell open and a tiny whimper escaped me. His grip tightened and he pulled me even closer to him. I had to tilt my head even farther to keep my eyes trained on his.
“You look fantastic. You feel fantastic. Lyn, Christ, I’ve been thinking about you for two years.”
His words sent a slight panic through me. He’d been thinking about me for two years? Flattering as it was, it was also a little overwhelming. I’d compartmentalized my old life when I drove out of town. I’d made a conscious decision to leave it all behind. Sure, I still spoke to the kids, and Shelby was still my friend, but it was almost necessary for me to start over to move forward. He must have sensed my unease because his intent stare turned into a questioning look.
“I’m sorry, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” he said, taking a small step backward, his hand leaving my hip, my body shouting at me not to let him back away. I could feel the pull to keep his hand on me, to reach up and pull on his jacket so our bodies were pressed together, but I ignored the impulse and took my own step backward.
“It’s been a really long day and I think I just need to go to bed.”
He was quiet for a moment, but then he smiled.
“Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
I let out a relieved sigh at his request. I could do dinner. I wasn’t sure I could do his hands on me in the dark hallway. I wasn’t ready for that yet.
“I’d love to do dinner.” I smiled at him, still a little unbelieving that he was even there, but then I went into hostess mode. “There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall, and there should be towels in the cupboard next to the sink. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen, although, there’s not much there.” I laughed, realizing I was ill prepared for company. Then I laughed because I hadn’t been expecting company, but there he was. And even though he made me nervous, I was touched he’d come. “Thank you for coming to my show, Nate. It was truly a surprise.”
He only nodded, then said a soft, “Goodnight, Evelyn.”
I gave him a small wave, then turned and headed down the hall to my bedroom. I closed the door softly, and then leaned back against it. Nate, for however long he decided to stay, was going to give my nerves and my heart a run for their money.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Present Day
The next morning, I tried to be as quiet as possible when getting ready to leave for the gallery. I was used to traipsing through the house in my pajamas, not paying attention to noises or floorboard creaks. But with Nate asleep upstairs, I was trying to be as mouse-like as I could, quietly scurrying through the kitchen to make my coffee and bagel, then get to work.
I was telling myself I didn’t want to disturb him, but in reality, I was pretty sure I just wanted to avoid an awkward situation. And all that really meant was that I didn’t want to see him comfortable, sleepy, in his pajamas with bed head in my house. How could I ever love my house again after seeing him like that? It would never be the same. It would always be lacking. So I had to make it out of the house before he woke up.
I had packed my travel mug, I had my bagel, and I was just leaving him a note when I heard his door open and his footsteps start down the stairs.
“Shit,” I whispered to myself, looking toward the door to gauge whether I could make a clean getaway before he appeared. I quickly realized, unless I wanted him to see me dashing for the front door as if the kitchen were on fire, I would have to face him. I grabbed my bagel and took a bite, trying to appear comfortable in my own kitchen, and probably failing spectacularly.
He came around the corner and I knew I was doomed. He looked exactly as I was afraid he would. Sexy. Rumpled. Sleepy. Lickable. Damn.
“Morning,” he said in a rough, sleepy voice.
Damn.
“Morning,” I said, forgetting I had bagel in my mouth, crumbs shooting forward and landing on the floor. I covered my mouth quickly, rolling my eyes at my own ineptitude. “Morning,” I tried again once my mouth was empty.
He laughed and pointed toward the coffee pot. “Do you mind if I grab a cup?”
“No, no. Please, help yourself.” I watched as he opened a cupboard, guessing their location correctly on the first try, and pulled out a mug. He poured the coffee while I stared at his broad shoulders. The t-shirt he was wearing was just tight enough to show his muscles flexing in a delicious way.
He turned back around and I suddenly found my shoes extremely interesting, moving my eyes away from his body as fast as I could.
“You’re up early,” I managed. “Especially considering the time change.”
“I’m used to getting up early in my line of work. Generally, you want to get a lot of the work done before the day gets too hot. Also,” he said, a playful smirk spreading over his mouth, “I heard you trying to be quiet.” He laughed a little as he brought the mug to his lips, and then sipped. “You whisper to yourself. Did you know that?”
“I do not,” I cried, but tried to think back over my morning to see if I could recall whispering anything.
“You do, actually. You narrate your morning. Or, at least you did today. I heard you tell yourself it was time for a shower and also when it was time for coffee.” His smile grew wider and he crossed his legs at the ankle as he leaned back against the counter. “I thought it was adorable.”
This was exactly what I was afraid of – him, being cute, comfortable, and cozy in my house. No, this wouldn’t do. “Well, I’m going to go whisper to myself at work then,” I said, my voice strained. I was caught somewhere between completely aroused and extremely uncomfortable because I was aroused. “Do you need anything before I take off?”
“I just need to know what time you’ll be home to make plans for dinner.”
“I’ll be back around five. Again, help yourself to anything in the house. I’m sorry I have to be gone, but today will be a busy day because of the show yesterday. I’m expecting lots of phone calls and emails and things of that nature.” I said all this while backing up toward the door. I kept my eyes on him, talking to fill the space between us, half-afraid that if I didn’t slowly escape, he was going to eat me alive.
“See you at five,” he said, his smirky, sexy grin still plastered across his face.
I turned abruptly and quickly opened and closed the door, breathing out a sigh of relief when I’d made it outside.
“Make it through the workday and then dinner and everything will be okay,” I whispered to myself as I walked toward my car.
The day passed at a fast pace. As I expected, I was inundated with phone calls and emails, all contacts who’d been at the show the night before wanting to make plans for future projects. Sylvia had been nice enough to come in on her day off to assist me, and around ten a.m. came in to my office with a wonderfully large cup of coffee.
“You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.” She handed me the cup and I noticed there was extra ice – just the way I liked it.
“I’m the only assistant you’ve ever had.”
“That’s irrelevant.” I took a sip of the too sweet coffee concoction I loved and then let out a happy sigh. “Okay, now that I’m caffeinated, what’s the word?”
“The word is you made thirty thousand dollars last night.”
“Shut the fucupcakes.” My mouth gaped open.
“I will not. I’m not even sure I know what that means.”
“Thirty thousand dollars? As in, one thousand dollars thirty times over? As in one dollar thirty thousand times?”
Sylvia laughed as I gaped.
“That’s exactly what I said. Thirty thousand dollars. That’s a lot of money for one show, Evie.” She raised her eyebrows at me. She was pretty much telling me ‘I told you so,’ without saying the words. I gave her the satisfaction anyhow.
“You were right,” I breathed, leaning all the way back in my chair.
“With that kind of money, you can pay someone to manage the gallery and spend more time taking photographs,” she said, her voice soft and easy, as if she was afraid I wouldn’t like her suggestion.
My eyes grew wide.
“I can buy a better camera.”
Again, Sylvia laughed. “Yes, you sure can.”
“I can’t believe it.” Even to me, my voice sounded far away. Sure, I’d priced all the photos. I knew what they all would go for, but I’d never allowed myself to imagine a scenario where I made my old yearly salary in one night. That didn’t happen to people like me.
“This is the next step in your career, Evelyn. And it’s a big step. You’ve got enough money to take your business to the next level, and you’ve got jobs now lined up for months that are going to pay you really well.” She paused and looked at me for a moment, a thoughtful expression across her face. “All the hard work you’ve done since you got here is paying off. You did it.”
“I did it.” My voice was wistful and unbelieving. For one moment, I forgot about the man waiting for me back at my house.
“So, what happened with you and that ridiculously handsome man you left with last night?”
“He’s an old friend,” I said, trying to avoid talking about him because I had no idea what I was supposed to say. I couldn’t very well tell her that, aside from Devon, he’d been the only man in almost a decade to turn me inside out.
Then, a smile spread over my face when I realized that thinking about Devon no longer turned me inside out. In fact, the only thing I felt when I thought of him was fondness. I let out a breath, glad to have confirmation that moving to LA, changing my life, and going in a totally random yet wonderful direction had been the best decision I’d ever made.
“We went out on one date a few years ago.” I decided to elaborate, and took great pleasure in the fact that just the one sentence about Nate brought on the butterflies. “But I wasn’t in the right mindset to start dating someone. When I left to come to LA, I lost touch with him.”
“So,” Sylvia started, a confused look on her face, “how did he know about your show last night?”
I shrugged. “He said he saw it on my website.”
Her eyes went wide.
“He’s been cyberstalking you?”
“He’s not stalking me,” I said, defending him. “He’s not a creeper.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I just meant he’s been investigating. Gathering information. It’s cute when guys do that. Unless they’re creepers.”
I nodded, looking at the clock, and then realized I’d been looking at the clock often. It was quite a while still until five o’clock.
“So, you didn’t know he was coming to the show?”
“No. I hadn’t spoken with him since before I left. I came to LA and changed my phone number. It was a complete surprise.”
“A good surprise?” Her voice sparkled exactly like the smile on her face. Her eyebrows were high, as were the corners of her mouth.
“I’m not sure yet, but I’m hoping so.” That was, possibly, the most honest sentence I’d uttered all day. I shook my head, trying to break apart all the thoughts of Nate flooding my brain. I had work to do. “Let’s get back to work. I’ll keep returning phone calls, if you can work through my email.”
“Done. I’ll step out in about an hour to get you lunch.”
“You know what, Sylvia? I think I’ll go out myself. I need to make a stop somewhere.”
“Okay,” she said, her voice knowing and singsong.
Three hours later, I found myself inside Agent Provocateur, thinking perhaps I was in over my head. I didn’t know for sure what was going to happen that evening between Nate and me, but I knew what I wanted to happen. I knew it involved removing clothing. I also knew I hadn’t purchased new lingerie in years. This occasion definitely called for something black, lacy, and new.
I’d found the perfect set, something I would feel comfortable wearing under my clothes. It was simple and classic. Almost innocent. If lingerie could be innocent and sexy at the same time, that’s what I bought. I also found myself, thinking about the enormous paycheck coming my way, purchasing a week’s worth of new panties. Some innocent, some not. But simply knowing I had them made me feel more feminine than I had in a long time.
On the drive home that evening, my heartbeat thrummed through my veins and my belly flipped with the thought of going out to dinner with Nate.
His car was still parked at the curb in front of my house, but all the curtains were closed. I opened the door and walked in, my breath caught, eyes wide.
Votive candles were placed randomly throughout the bottom floor, casting a romantic light throughout the house. Soft music was playing, but it was wordless, beautiful piano pieces. I walked slowly through the house, wondering where I would find Nate, my heart pounding. I found him standing at the stove, cooking. His back was to me, and I wasn’t sure he knew I was there, so I took a moment to drink him in.
He had on jeans that clung to every curve of his thighs and ass, leading down to what appeared to be cowboy boots. His black shirt had long sleeves, but they were rolled up, allowing me to see his forearm working as he stirred whatever was making my house smell delicious. His dark hair was barely dusting over the collar of his shirt and I was a little upset I couldn’t see a bit of skin there.
“I can feel your eyes on me, Lyn.”
His voice startled me, and heat spread over my cheeks with the realization I’d been caught. He obviously liked it though; he let me stand there and ogle him for a good half minute before interrupting me.
“It’s not every day I come home to a handsome man cooking in my kitchen.”
He turned his head to look at me, his brown eyes captivating against the black of his shirt. Then I noticed his shirt was a button-up, and it was tucked in. He was dressed up. He looked fresh, all but for the stubble on his chin, which I never wanted to see him without. In fact, I wanted to feel it up against my skin: on my fingers, my mouth, my thighs.
A new heat ran through me with the thoughts of his stubble against my skin.
“I’m not going to pretend like that statement doesn’t make me happy,” he said with an easy smile. “Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes if you want to relax for a little while.”
I looked down at my jeans, flip-flops, and t-shirt and decided to change. “I’m just going to go freshen up,” I announced. But before I made it out of the kitchen, I stopped and asked him a question. “I had no food in my house. What in the world are you cooking?”
“I went to the store. Don’t worry about anything. Tonight we’re celebrating.”
“Okay,” I replied, my voice a whisper. He winked at me and I nearly died, every muscle in my body contracting.
The next thirty minutes was spent in a dizzying dash around my master suite. I’d never been so glad to have an attached bathroom, as I was running in and out, trying on different dresses, trying to decide exactly how I wanted the evening to play out.
In the end, with my hair smoothed out, fresh makeup applied, and new underwear on, I decided to take a cue from Nate and wore a black dress just a notch or two up from casual. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t something you’d put on to go to the grocery store, either. It was, perhaps, a third date dress. The one you’d wear to let a man know you wanted him to take you out of it.
I also put on high heels, even though I was only walking down the stairs to my own kitchen. The dress looked silly with anything but four-inch stilettos.
When I finally thought I’d made myself presentable, exactly twenty-eight minutes after I’d come upstairs, I took a deep breath and returned to Nate.
When I entered the kitchen, I marveled again at how gorgeous he looked, but was taken by surprise at his response to me. He looked stunned. He stopped, mid-stride, kitchen towel draped over his shoulder, pan in hand, and he took me in.
I tried not to shrivel under his stare and instead, tried to blossom. I pushed my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and pretended that I was totally comfortable with his eyes roving over me. I wanted his eyes there, but I’d never been so bold as to stand tall and let a man drink me in.
“It smells great, whatever you’re making,” I said, trying to break the tension building in our silence.
“Seafood Alfredo. I hope you like shrimp and scallops.”
“I do,” I said, pleased with his choice of meals. “Where’d you learn how to cook something like that?”
“Here,” he said quickly, “sit down and I’ll get you some wine. I bought white to go with the meal, I hope that’s all right?”
“I love white wine,” I said as I sat at my own table, but feeling like I was at a restaurant.
“Before I went to college, my mom taught me how to make seven meals.” He opened the fridge and produced a bottle of wine, then moved to open it while he continued his story. “She figured if I could cook one meal for each day of the week, I might not starve.”
“Did your mom know you’d be using your acquired skills to woo women?” I said the words quickly, before I could stop my mouth from spewing them out, and then panicked when I realized I’d insinuated there was more to this dinner than just two people sharing a meal.
A wicked smile grew on his face and I was fixated on it. He walked to the table with the wine bottle and two glasses in his hands. Placing one glass in front of me, and one in front of his spot, he turned back to me and poured the wine for me.
“If my mother knew you, I’m sure she’d approve of my attempt to woo you, cooking included.”
“Oh,” was all I could say as I brought the now full glass of wine to my lips. I took a sip of the cool, crisp white wine, loving the taste. “This is quite good,” I said, setting the glass down.
“I’m glad you like it.” He moved back into the kitchen and the next few minutes passed with silence as I watched him move around in my house as if he’d lived there with me for the last two years. He never once asked me where something was, or if I had a certain ingredient or utensil he was looking for. He’d seemed to have everything memorized.
Finally, he turned toward the table with a plate in each hand and placed one in front of me, then made his way to the other side of the table, sitting down with his plate in front of him. The meal looked as good as it smelled and suddenly, I was starving.
“I hope you like it,” he said, his voice sounding a little shy and hopeful.
I took a bite and had to hold back a moan. It was delicious. I was a fan of Italian food, always had been, and that was the best seafood Alfredo I’d ever had.
“Wow. This is amazing,” I said before piling more into my mouth, trying to walk the line between gross-food-shoveling and being the girl who wasn’t afraid to eat on a date. “What else did your mom teach you to make?”
“If you’d like to know, you’re going to have to go out on six more dates with me, at the very least.”
“Oh, really? I see how it is,” I said through laughter.
“My mother didn’t raise a fool.” He smiled right before he wrapped his lips around the tines of his fork and I nearly choked on my shrimp. I’d never considered eating an arousing activity, but I’d be damned if Nate’s lips wrapping around something wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d seen in a while.
“What did you tell your mom about coming to California? Did she think you were crazy?”
“No. I didn’t tell her. I didn’t tell anyone, actually.”
“Oh,” I replied. His answer had deflated me a little.
“I guess I was afraid that if I told my mom about how I was going after a woman, she’d get her hopes up. I didn’t know how you were going to react to me showing up. I didn’t want to have to go home and tell her I’d gotten my very first restraining order.”
I couldn’t help but laugh and thought he had a point.
“Nate,” I started, but was stopped when he held up his hand.
“Whatever you’re going to say, let’s just wait until after dinner. I want to sit here, with you, in that amazing dress, and pretend like this is the dinner date we never got.” The butterflies in my stomach took flight at his words, and the pounding of my pulse thrummed through my veins. I was in full swoon mode. “I promise whatever you want to talk about after dinner is fair game.” It was a statement, but it was pleading. I nodded, then took another bite, conceding. “So,” he said with a sigh, “how was work today.”
“Great,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. “I made thirty thousand dollars.” I said the words like they meant nothing, and then took another bite. I was aware he’d stopped moving, his fork stalled halfway to his mouth, eyes wide.
“I’m sorry,” he said, coughing a little, putting his fork down, and taking a sip of his wine. “Did you just say you made thirty thousand dollars?”
I nodded quickly, too excited to hide it any longer. “I’m sorry, it’s probably bad form to talk about money on a date, but I really wanted to tell someone.” I took a breath and continued. “I made thirty thousand dollars at my show last night.” I was nearly bouncing up and down in my chair, thankful to have someone to share the news with.
“Holy shit.” His face was blank and his eyes were like saucers. “Holy shit, Lyn. That’s amazing.”
“It’s really exciting,” I agreed. “I’m not sure I’ve really grasped it yet, but I know I’m really lucky. A lot of people can’t make it as a professional photographer and, well, I just secured my job for at least another six months. I feel really blessed.”
“You’re being humble, which is cute, but you’re really talented.” His words were insistent and genuine. I didn’t get the feeling he was trying to be flattering, it felt like he was telling me the truth.
“Thank you.” I blushed again.
“Wow, okay, now we’ve really got something to celebrate. I didn’t get any champagne though. I thought we’d maybe gotten enough champagne last night.”
“I don’t need champagne,” I said a little more dreamily than I had planned. My eyes were glued to his and I was already warm from the wine, and more than a little tipsy from his praise. I didn’t need champagne. I needed exactly what he was giving me.
“So,” I said, kicking off my heels and folding my feet under me on the couch where I’d just sat down, “let’s talk about you being in California.”
“Okay,” he agreed. He was sitting on the opposite side of the couch, but it was a small couch, so he was only a few inches from me. The hand closest to me held his wine glass, and his other arm was stretched out along the back of the couch, draping down the arm. I looked at him over the rim of my own wine glass, taking in the way his shirt was stretched over his bicep. I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive his muscles had grown in the two years since I’d seen him.
I wanted to reach over and undo a few of his buttons, maybe even all of them. He’d been eyeing me all through dinner and I knew he wanted to touch me too, but we were still going to talk. I got the feeling nothing would progress between us until that happened. And, honestly, I was okay with that. Things between us weren’t exactly simple and the way I’d left him hanging, without even a goodbye, deserved an explanation. Especially since he’d come all the way to California to see me.
“The last time I saw you, before you left, you were in a rough spot emotionally.”
I nodded, remembering our last encounter vividly. He’d been heartbreakingly sweet and very understanding.
“That day, it took everything I had in me not to wrap my arms around you and tell you how amazing I thought you were, and how dumb I thought Devon was for playing whatever role he’d played in your unhappiness.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but then closed it because, well, he had a point. Devon had played a role in my unhappiness. I’d long since forgiven him, and myself, for the years of torture we’d put ourselves through. It was over now.
“It didn’t feel right though.” He brought his free hand up and threaded it through his hair, showing he was frustrated, or frustrated by a memory, perhaps. “I knew if I tried to swoop in and fix you, you wouldn’t ever be mine.” His eyes darted over to me, and I tried to keep my expression even. I didn’t want him to know his words had opened me up. “Not really, anyway,” he continued. “We might have hooked up, and we might have tried to date, but if we got together when you were still healing from something else, we would have been doomed.” He took in a deep breath and then exhaled it out. “So, I did the only thing I thought was right. I gave you time.” He shifted on the couch, turning in to face me a little more. I was glad to have more of his handsome face to look at.
“You know that saying, if you love something, let it go and then if it comes back to you, you’ll know it belongs to you?”
I nodded.
“Well, I was trusting the wisdom of that stupid saying. I was hoping if I gave you space, you’d come back to me.”
“Nate…”
“So, I guess what I’m saying is,” he continued, talking over me, “I came to California to find out why you never came back to me.” His eyes came up to meet mine and he looked so gentle and curious, with just the tiniest twinge of hurting there in the brown depths of his eyes. “I thought for a while that it was because you were with Devon. But then I found you on your website, and your name was still the same, and a small part of me held out hope.” He stopped and shook his head. “I sound like a crazy stalker.”
“No, Nate, it’s fine. I can explain.” I leaned forward and placed my wine glass on the coffee table, then moved so I was facing him fully, sitting with my legs under me. I met his eyes and smiled because I could see he was anxious about what I was about to tell him. The butterflies in my belly thought it was adorable.
